


Shelley by the Lake

by RainbowSheltie



Category: Neverlake (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Horror, No Incest, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 19:18:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowSheltie/pseuds/RainbowSheltie
Summary: Had Jenny known beforehand what kind of man her father was, what he would do to her—had done to the other children—would she have still gone to Tuscany, Italy to see him? It gave Jenny pause for a moment, but only just. Releasing a few wretched souls from misery and finding true love along the way would always be worth the cost.Based off the movie "Neverlake". No Incest.





	Shelley by the Lake

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes** : Peter isn’t related to Jenny. His full name is Peter Bell, son of Dr. Russell Bell.
> 
>  **BETA** : TheSupernova

_As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love:_  
_He bears a load which nothing can remove,_  
_A killing, withering weight._

 _He smiles—‘tis sorrow’s deadliest mockery;_  
_He speaks—the cold words flow not from his soul;_

 _He acts like the others, drains the genial bowl,—_  
_Yet, yet he longs—although he fears—to die;_  
_He pants to reach what yet he seems to fly,_  
_Dull life’s extremest goal._

\- “The Solitary” by Percy Shelley

* * *

Jenny arrived in Tuscany, Italy around midday, greeted in town by her father.

Not that Jenny saw much of her father for that matter; he always seemed to be either locked up in his study or in town on business. As for Olga, Jenny preferred to keep her distance from the woman, though Jenny didn’t have any particular reason for doing so.

Tuscany was a nice change from the apartment she lived at in New York, close to the university she attended. It was nice to get away from the fast-paced, hectic culture of Manhattan for a while.

Jenny spent her days by the lake, reading her books on poetry, plays and fairy tales from all parts of the world. Right now, she was reading Shelley. Jenny had closed her eyes, opened the book and begun to read from whatever page she turned to.

* * *

_Tall spires of windlestrae_  
_Threw their thin shadows down the rugged slope,_

 _And nought but gnarled roots of ancient pines_  
_Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping roots_  
_The unwilling soil. A gradual change was here,_  
_Yet ghastly. For as fast years flow away,_  
_The smooth brow gathers, and the hair grows thin_

 _And white, and where irradiate dewy eyes_  
_Hand show, gleam stony orbs_

_\- “Alastor: or, the Spirit of Solitude” by Percy Shelley_

 

Upon one of her many ventures to the nearby lake, a blind girl chanced upon her, and led her back to the other children. Jenny met a set of twin brothers, the girls two sisters and a boy around Jenny’s age, named Peter. Whom Jenny only heard about but had yet to meet.

“Won’t you come meet her, Peter? She’s really nice,” one of the brothers asked.

“No,” came Peter’s sharp reply.

Jenny could see his shadow—he was definitely taller than the others, perhaps closer in age to Jenny than anyone she had met so far.

“It was nice to meet you, Peter,” Jenny said. No answer, though it wasn’t as if she had been expecting one.

* * *

First Jenny heard the sounds of a woman crying in the hospital where the children lived, now she was hearing strange noises late at night in her father’s home. Staying in a house nestled in the woods near Tuscany, beside the placid Lake of Idols with an occasional trip to town should have been relaxing.

Then the nightmares started.

Ghastly spirits haunting the lake, dead corpses backed by a chilling, whistling wind and horrid screams that kept going long into the night. Every dream ended in her own death.

* * *

The next day, Jenny continued reading Peter Pan to the children at the nearby hospital.

“…and Peter pan said, ‘even death can be a marvelous adventure.’” Jenny sighed, and closed the book. It was getting late. “Okay, that’s enough. I’ll read more next time.”

She set the book down on the questionably dirty mattress they had been using as a makeshift couch. Peter was calmly staring out the window. Jenny tilted her head; Peter was bathed in the sunlight, his expression giving away nothing of his inner thoughts. Her impression was that Peter didn’t seem to care for the tale one way or another.

“Your voice,” Peter said, turning to her, “it’s nice.”

Jenny grinned. “Thank you.”

Peter shrugged, before turning back to the window, having nothing more to say.

* * *

Jenny didn’t go to the nearby hospital to see the children every day; somedays she just felt like reading by herself at the lakeside. After her operation, she spent most of the following days in her room, occasionally venturing around the house.

“Back to bed with you,” Jenny’s father had told her more than once.

Today, she had finally been released. Carrying her favorite book of poems (by Shelley) she cleared away some forest debris with her shoe, before sitting down.

* * *

_They footsteps in the path that thou hast trod,_  
_And many days of beaming hope shall bless_  
_Thy spotless life of sweet and sacred love._

\- “The Daimon of the World. A Fragment, part 2, verse 595” by Percy Shelley

 

“The others are wondering where you are.”

Jenny turned around to find Peter standing behind her, leaning against a tree a few feet away.

“They were worried,” he said.

“Were you?” Jenny asked.

“No.” Peter looked away. “The others worry enough to make up for the things I cannot do.”

“Cannot do?”

While curiosity begged her to ask, Jenny knew Peter wouldn’t answer, so she stood up instead, lightly brushing the dirt off the back of her pants. They headed towards the hospital in silence. After a time, Peter spoke up.

“I wanted to miss you,” Peter said.

“Peter?”

Peter shrugged, and slowed down his pace to match hers. Jenny didn’t ask, and Peter didn’t say another word to her that day. Jenny did note that Peter stood a bit closer to the group as she picked up the book, and began to read.

* * *

Jenny dove into the lake for the sixth time, looking for the last bronze organ. Upon breaching the surface, swam to shore. They dropped from her hand as she struggled to catch her breath. A realistic bronze heart lay before her; it sent a cold shiver crawling down her spine.

Among the others of its kind, they creeped her out and she would be glad to be rid of them.

* * *

“I can’t find them!” Jenny yelled in frustration. “Father has those statues either in his study or the basement down below, both of which are locked.”

She began pacing back and forth, muttering to herself under her breath.

“You must find them, Jenny!” the blindfolded girl said. “The spirits of the lake are calling out for them; their calls are getting louder.”

“I know a way,” the girl with the wheelchair rolled closer to her, “but…”

“But?” Jenny urged her. “Tell me, please.”

Jenny looked around at the other children, all of whom watched her silently, fidgeting as they sat. Unsure of what to say.

Eventually, the one of the boys replied in the girl’s stead.

“You’ll find more than the statues where you’ll be going, I think.”  His childish voice sounded playful yet serious; a strange mixture.

“But she has to go, no matter what!” The other boy nudged his brother in the ribs. “Those statues must be found.”

“Yeah, I know, but… what about him?”

“Him?” Jenny interjected.

“Yeah,” the younger boy said, pointing to Peter. “Not all of us are—”

“Shut it!” the older boy said, slapping a hand over his brother’s mouth.

“Sorry,” the younger one answered sheepishly.

Peter placed his hand on Jenny’s shoulder. She turned, looking up at him.

“Here,” he said, placing a key in her hand. “You’ll come across a locked metal door, out of place in the basement of that house. Remember it, but don’t enter. It’s not time yet.”

Jenny closed her hand, clutching the key to her chest. “I won’t forget.”

“Good.” He stepped back, looking from child to child, before returning his gaze to Jenny. “When you have the statues, when you find the stone ornaments at the bottom of the lake…” 

* * *

_If we reason, we would be understood… if we feel, we would that another’s nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own, that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart’s best blood. This is Love. This is the bond and the sanction which connects not only man with man, but with everything which exists._

\- “On Love” by Percy Shelley

 

Peter had told her to bring the objects back to the hospital, but Jenny was hesitant, because she knew what fate awaited the children—awaited Peter. The objects in her hands were proof enough. She had been getting close to Peter over the last few weeks, to all of them.

“Are you giving up already?” a voice asked her.

“Peter?” Jenny spun around, but couldn’t find Peter anywhere.

“You remember the basement door? The locked, metal one?”

Jenny nodded her head, still looking around. “Of course.”

“Jenny,” Peter whispered, his warm breath blowing past her ear. She jumped, placing a hand over her heart when she found Peter standing behind her.

“Oh my god, Peter. You scared me,” she said.

“Sorry.” He shrugged noncommittally. Peter brought his hand to Jenny’s face, caressing it with his fingers. They were cold, but Jenny didn’t care. She placed her own hand over Peter’s.

Did Peter share the same fate as the children? Was he really…

“There’s still time,” Peter said, “I don’t what will happen now but… I don’t want to let you go.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked. “What can I do to help? Please, tell me.”

“Open the door,” Peter said, stepping back. “My life is in your hands.”

Jenny stepped towards him automatically, but Peter shook his head. “Hurry.”

* * *

The heavy padlock chaining the handle to the metal door opened with a loud THUNK. The chains slammed against door as they swung down and began crawling across the ground. Jenny caught the tail end of it, laying the rest of the chain on the floor gently. She stayed a moment, listening for any sign that someone might have heard her, but nothing came.

She breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short-lived, because beyond the metal door lay a darkened passageway, wide enough for one person and dimly lit by a few old wall lamps that still clung to life. Three doors lay on either side of her as she walked by. They were all unlocked, but also empty, save for the cobwebs decorating the ceiling and walls.

As Jenny reached the end of the passage, she found two corridors on either side.

“Which way, which way…” Jenny muttered to herself. Clink-clink. “Oh?”

She reached into her shirt, which she had bundled up to carry the stone organs from the lake. The stones had been knocking against the key. Jenny almost turned away until she saw the small heart knock against the key on its own.

“What—” The stone heart was warm in her hand. Jenny looked around, and as she turned to the right, the stone turned cold, but when Jenny turned back to the right, it heated up in her palm.

“Well, that’s a sign if I ever saw one,” Jenny said, and proceeded down the corridor to her left.

* * *

At the end of the long corridor were two rooms, each facing the other. The walkway was pitch black, save for the single, flickering lamp swaying from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows upon the two doors. Receiving no further clues from the stone heart, she put it back with the others.

The left door was locked with a series of two double deadbolts, and a third attached to the door handle. The right door held a single padlock, similar to the one outside the basement door. Jenny placed her ear against the wooden door, but whatever secrets lay beyond remained out of reach.

Click. Thunk. The noise echoed down the passageway and Jenny held her breath, listening for sounds of life.

Silence.

Jenny released the tension in her shoulders and unhooked the lock. The door opened without a sound.

* * *

_Must that divinest form,_  
_Which love and admiration cannot view,_  
_Without a beating heart, whose azure veins_

_Steal like dark streams along a field of snow_

\- “The Daimon of the World. A Fragment, part 1, verse 10-15” by Percy Shelley

 

Another hospital room; the white walls and floor were bare, save for the rectangular hanging curtain bar in the middle of the room drawn fully closed.

The rustle of bedsheets startled her; Jenny’s breath caught in her throat, hair standing on end.

“Back so soon?” called a familiar voice sarcastically. “And here I thought you went to town for the day, Dr. Bell.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jenny responded softly, “I’m afraid the Doctor is currently out. Will I do?”

A pause.

“Jenny? Jenny, is that you?”

“Peter,” Jenny said, as she opened the curtains.

* * *

_So long have mingled with the gusty wind_  
_In melancholy loneliness, and swept_  
_The desert of those ocean solitudes,_  
_But vocal to the sea-bird’s harrowing shriek,_  
_The bellowing monster and the rushing storm,_

\- “The Daimon of the World. A Fragment, part 2, verse 390-396.” by Percy Shelley

 

Peter was strapped down to the hospital bed, his wrists, ankles and chest secured tightly. Jenny immediately ran over to him, wrapping her arms around Peter’s shoulders, placing her head against his neck.

“Are you real?” Jenny asked quietly. “Please be alive.”

Peter huffed lightly. “Yeah, I’m here,” he reassured. “You and me, we’re the only ones left.”

“Then the other children are…” Jenny pulled back, looking Peter in the face, “they are— oh, the organs!”

She looked down, and saw the stone organs spread across bed, immediately relaxing when she realized all six were accounted for. The stone heart caught her eye, and she picked it up and handed it to Peter.

“Do you know why I’m connected to the powers of the lake of idols?” Peter asked as he began pulling back the covers, careful of the stone organs. He took the heart from Jenny, a mixture of emotions played across his face.

Jenny nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

The spirits of the Lake of Idols feel no remorse or guilt, only pain. It’s a cold lonely place where revenge—dark and merciless—becomes their only companion. Peter lost his heart to the lake, the small bronze figurine embodying the very essence of humanity.

A man without a heart…

As Jenny helped unbuckle the leather straps.

“How are you still… alive?” Jenny asked hesitantly. “I mean, all the other children were sacrificed by my father so why would he leave you... I mean, he took your heart, right? So how can you be here.”

Peter sat up slowly, Jenny’s hand a gentle presence on his back. He couldn’t help a small chuckle, though it wasn’t out of laughter.

“I’m not sure how it started, but my father, Dr. Russell Bell, made a deal with your father, Dr. Brooks. Dr. Brooks couldn’t get all the medical supplies and equipment he needed for his ritual, and my father wanted a place to work on his researched and experiments.”

“What is he—”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s up to or how long I’ve been here. But he is working on replicating the human heart. He wants a heart with a zero percent rejection rate. I’m the only patient who’s survived the transplants, but…”

“It’s defective?” Jenny finished.

Peter nodded. He slipped off the shirt of his hospital scrubs, revealing a body littered with scars. Most prominent were the one on his upper chest. It wasn’t just one set of scars; there were many overlapping each other.

“I had organs I didn’t need,” Peter said, before slipping his shirt back on.

Jenny revealed her own scar where her father had removed her kidney.

“We match,” she said with a smile. Peter grinned, letting out a snort of laughter.

Abruptly his smile faded, his tone serious. “It’s time to release the souls of the lake of idols. To sever the ties that keep the children tied to the hospital. It’s time they moved on.”

* * *

Jenny heard about it later, about how the police found a girl named Maya behind a locked door in the basement, the one across from Peter’s room. Olga was found with the girl’s dead body. It took no time at all for the police to turn Dr. Brook’s house into a crime scene

Even after the police finished with the house, Jenny and Peter were told to remain in the area for the near future. Which meant staying in that house until further notice. Not the best of options, but at least the police helped arrange for a rental car so Jenny could drive to town for supplies or a day trip.

* * *

Jenny sat next to Peter by the lakeside. Although he was on medication and under close watch by the doctors, he still looked sick.

“So,” Jenny began, “astro-projection?”

Peter smiled, snorting in amusement.

“It’s a first for me,” Peter responded. “I haven’t done it since, so it probably had to do with the ritual.”

Jenny gave a quick nod, before leaning against Peter, resting her head on his shoulder. “No more talking with vengeful spirits then?” Jenny asked.

“I wonder,” Peter answered vaguely. He wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist, holding her close. “The spirits in the lake of idols are bound to this place, protectors of the statues. But they thank you, Jenny, for everything. You gave them peace.”

“Living here, it wasn’t so bad,” Jenny said.

“I don’t know,” Peter huffed out a laugh. “I think I’m over this place. I’m thinking about moving to the city somewhere.”

“Come with me to New York then. I have a small apartment in New York, near my university.” Jenny looked into Peter’s eyes, studying them. “Stay with me.”

Peter brought his free hand to Jenny’s face, caressing her cheek gently.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Peter said softly, “about what love stories I enjoy reading about.”

“Oh?” Jenny responded, leaning into Peter’s touch. “What kind of love stories do you like then?”

Peter leaned inwards, his lips brushing lightly against hers. “The ones with happy endings.”

“I’ll see if I can find something like that,” Jenny said, before pulling Peter in for a real kiss.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Fun Fact** : The name “Peter Bell” is a character in Percy Shelley’s poem “Peter Bell the Third”.


End file.
